Coma

By Evelyne Morris

Having survived a deadly assault, Mellissa Harris was taken to hospital, where she was put into a medically induced coma.

Whilst unconscious, she was transported back in time to relive the life of her 19th-century namesake, an English girl called Mellissa Goodchild, who was an abolitionist. She married the son of an English landowner, and she and her new husband set off to Jamaica immediately after their marriage to run a sugar plantation which had been newly bought by her father-in-law and her husband. The plantation was worked by nearly 400 slaves.

Is it a 21st-century detective story? Yes, some of it.

Is it a 21st-century life-and-death hospital drama?
Yes, some of it.

But mainly, it is a 19th-century slave story set in Jamaica during the build-up to the Christmas slave rebellion of 1831-32. And it is a love story between the abolitionist wife of a white sugar plantation and slave owner, and an African slave, both unwittingly caught up in the rebellion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Aug 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463796566

Evelyne Morris

Evelyne Morris was born in England towards the end of WW2, in 1944, but she comes from an international cultural background. Her grandparents were French/Italian and Maltese/Greek, and she was brought up in a college with foreign students from all over the world – Europe, the Far East, the Middle East, Africa and South America. She has a brother and sisters-in-law from Spain, France, and Japan, and she has daughters-in-law from Brazil and South Korea. She started writing after retirement, and this is her third novel.

Book preview

Part One

Chapter One

Friday, 22 January, 7:50 p.m.

Westover Police Station

It had been a long day, full of nothing in particular, and Detective Inspector Lavinia Hobbs was looking forward to going home, a quiet Friday night in. She was a tall, good-looking black woman in her early fifties. She was also very experienced in her work, having spent over twenty-five years ‘on the job’, most of it in CID. As a black woman in the police force, her promotion to the rank of DI was extraordinary, and she was very proud of her achievements.

Outside it was dark and stormy, and the rain was now falling down in sheets as she ran to her car parked at the far end of the car park. Why had she left her raincoat in her car today? She usually brought it into the office with her. Soaking and now thoroughly fed up, she drove down the county lane passing Westover Wood, towards the reported burning of the Maserati on the adjacent Westover Common.

She knew that there would be a log fire burning and a hot meal waiting for her at home. James, her husband of only six months would be waiting for her with his cheerful chatter and never-ending understanding of how difficult it was for her to let go of the grisly details of her job. How could she talk about the two little children who had been found last week in a shallow grave up on Greystone moor? How could she talk about the harrowing interview she had been forced to have with the children’s shocked and grieving parents? Her boss, Detective Chief Inspector Henry Ericson, was sure that the father knew more than he was letting on.

Same Evening, 8:15 p.m.

As Lavinia was musing over these things, she wished that she had sent DS Oliver to Westover Common after all. How she wanted to be home again, sitting in front of that log fire. She was struggling to see ahead as she peered through the rhythmic swishing of her windscreen wipers into the dashing rain beyond. Then appearing out of the rain-soaked bushes at the side of the road, she saw what looked like a bundle of rags. Was there some movement? Or was it just the wind moving the rags? She pulled up sharply and hurriedly dragged on her raincoat before opening the car door. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the wind and rain to examine the bundle.

Christ Almighty! she exclaimed out loud, It’s a woman, and she’s covered in blood!

Her mobile phone was already switched on to the police emergency channel. She crouched over the body to see if the woman was still alive and felt a very faint pulse in her neck. DI Hobbs here, she said, I need an ambulance here on the B2060 between Westover Wood and Westover Common. I have found a woman who is barely alive and needs immediate help. Tell them that she is bleeding heavily from a head wound. I shall escort the ambulance to the hospital and attend to the woman there. I also need DS Oliver to organise a murder back-up team to examine the scene here and see if it is possible to trace this woman’s movements. It could be a hit and run or she may have been attacked in Westover Wood and was able to crawl to the roadside. It could be attempted murder. I was on my way to investigate the burning of a Maserati on Westover Common. This should also be followed up as the two events could be linked. Let me know when to expect the ambulance. This lady needs urgent attention.

Chapter Two

Same Evening, 8:55 p.m.,

Wallchester General Hospital

Forty minutes later, Lavinia entered the chaos of the A&E department of Wallchester General Hospital. Always when she visited the hospital, she thought of her late mother, Mary, who had come from Nigeria to work there as a nurse and had done so for over twenty-five years.

Taking off her rain and blood drenched coat, she was shown to a side ward where she found a tall and very good looking black doctor of about forty attending to her victim. Good evening, he said in a deep, warm voice which, she thought, had a light Caribbean accent. I am Mr Akami, a consultant neurologist, a specialist in head and brain traumas. I am assessing this lady’s head injury. Are you related to her? Do you know what happened to her?

(Akami, Akami my love. Have you come to save me again?)

DI Hobbs gave a brief look at his identification badge, Alexander Akami, it read. No, I’m sorry, I’m not related, she replied, and I don’t even know who she is. I am Detective Inspector Lavinia Hobbs, and I found this lady by the roadside with that horrible wound to her head, Doctor. Do I call you Mister or Doctor? Have you been able to assess her injuries yet?

(Lavinia. Are you my Lavinia, my faithful black slave who cares for me?)

As a consultant within the hospital, I am called Mister, but I know that it can be confusing, so I would be quite happy if you address me as ‘Doctor’, said Mr Akami.

He bent over to look closely at the woman lying in the bed. This lady does have a significant wound at the back of her head and she is drifting in and out of consciousness all the time. I believe that she may have an intracranial hematoma, a bleed between her brain and her skull, which means that we will need to have it drained as soon as possible. I am having her transferred to our intensive care unit to have her put into a medically induced coma so that we can scan her skull and brain to confirm my diagnosis. Although I am not a forensic specialist, it seems to me that the scratches on her arms and legs from her crawl through the woods are superficial and she does not seem to have any defence wounds. One hit and she was down…

As he was talking to a uniformed police constable, who was stationed outside the door of the side ward, came in.

Ma’am, he said, walking towards Lavinia, and handing to her a large evidence bag, I have just been given this woman’s handbag. It was found by the forensic team some fifty metres away from where they believe her body was left by her attacker. They do think that they have found evidence that she was dumped by a car by the lake and somehow, with that awful head injury, she managed to crawl to the edge of the woods where you found her.

Thank you, said Lavinia. Has the team found anything else that might give us any idea what happened in Westover Woods, or whether this attack is linked to the burning car on Westover Common?

I don’t think so, Ma’am, replied the constable. Sergeant Oliver, who is in charge of the search team, says that the constant rain this evening has washed out most of the possible evidence, how she was attacked, the car tyre tracks and her tracks. He said that he will contact you directly if there is any more news from there. He also said that he sent two DC’s to the Common. The Fire Service has dampened down the fire, but the petrol tank in the car had exploded and the vehicle is virtually destroyed, including its number plates, so they have not been able to identify the owner as yet. They will check the chassis’ number when it has cooled down.

Okay, said Lavinia. You can get back to your guard duties. I don’t want anyone, other than hospital staff, coming into this side ward or the intensive care unit when she has been transferred, until we know what has happened to this lady. I feel sure that whatever the reason we are dealing with an attempted murder here.

As he left the room, she sat down and after pulling on a pair of latex gloves; she pulled out of the evidence bag a pretty, pink leather handbag. Phew, she whistled silently through her teeth, Louis Vuitton. She’s a lady who must be loaded! She opened the handbag and rummaged inside. Ah ha! Got you! she muttered to herself as she pulled out a fat matching pink wallet. She opened it up and found £165 in notes, and several credit cards.

Well! I don’t think that she was mugged. Dr Akami, she said out loud, your patient’s name appears to be Mellissa Harris, and she is 28 years old. This photo on her driving licence seems to be her. How badly is she injured, and when do you think that she will be awake enough for me to interview her? Can I talk to her before you put her into that deep coma, while she is just plain unconscious? Can she hear us talking and will she be able to take anything in?

She can probably hear us and maybe take in significant words or names, replied the doctor, but I don’t think if she were to come around, that she would be either lucid in her speech or understanding us in anyway. There can be no interviewing for some time. He pointed to some marks on her left cheek. Look – she has some bruising on her face, making me think that she was hit, probably by an open hand. Her head injuries are a puzzle. On the surface there are all sorts of leaf debris which she must have picked up when she crawled through the woods, but deeper down the wound is clean. I think that she was hit before she reached the roadside, even before she was left in the woods. I don’t think that she was hit by a car. The scan will tell us whether there is blood in or near her brain. We must also wait until the swelling goes down before we can examine her head wounds more thoroughly.

We have a forensic team working at Westover Wood, and I hope that we will soon have the answer to the puzzle of how and where she was attacked, and how she came to be in Westover Wood, said the detective. "You say that she is to be put in a coma. How much is she aware of her situation right now? If she hears us talking, can she take anything in, or respond by moving her eyelids or, say, a little finger?

As they were talking, a tall and attractive young man in his early thirties walked into the side ward. Lavinia thought that she recognised him but could not quite place him. She got up and went towards him.

I am Detective Inspector Hobbs and I’m sorry sir, you can’t come in, she said, trying to usher him out. This is a restricted room and the constable at the door shouldn’t have let you in.

I am Mellissa’s husband, he said. I’m Charlie Harris. All his speech started coming out in a jumble of words. What has happened to my wife? Why is her head covered in bandages? Is she going to recover? Is she able to talk and say what happened? All I know is that she pinched my car and went off in the rain.

Of course, Charlie Harris, better known as Detective Inspector David Holland. I thought I knew your face! Lavinia was surprised and somewhat taken aback to be talking to a made up version of herself. Oh, those handsome blue eyes and lanky blond hair. No wonder half the women in Britain were ‘in love’ with him. She pulled herself together. You will have to ask those questions of Dr Akami here. He will be able to explain your wife’s condition. I am Detective Inspector Lavinia Hobbs, she repeated, and I am in charge of the investigation to find out…

(I can hear them talking. Why can’t I move? I can’t even blink my eyes. I can hear Charlie. Does he still want to hurt me? Oh! Akami I can hear you too. My beloved Akami. Have you come to save me again? Am I back in Jamaica? Back with my love, in Jamaica?)

Chapter Three

29 December, 1831

Silver Bay, Jamaica

(I am heavily pregnant and the baby is due in about two weeks’ time. But I cannot rest, I have to run away from the murderous mob which is attacking my home. I am gasping and struggling to breathe. This is partly due to fear, but also because of the vile, acrid air that is filling my lungs. The usual fabulous setting of the Jamaican sun is obscured by the thick, black plumes of smoke coming from the storehouse. I am choking on the stench and sticky sweetness of burning sugar that is filling the air.

The storehouse, the cane crusher and the whole season’s crop of sugar cane is on fire; and now the wild mob is throwing burning torches into the windows of my home, the plantation house.

I should not be discovered as they will surely kill me and my unborn baby. From my hiding place and shelter behind this huge oak tree I look back at my home, called High View. The home where I have lived almost in isolation for three long years. How I long for my real home back in England. I even plan to bring back two of the former slaves that I have freed, Akami and Lavinia. Not just slaves but, apart from Lucy who lives far away in Kingston, my only real friends. And Akami is my own true love too.

The mob is being led by one of our slaves, Lucas; the only slave from Silver Bay and the one who killed Peter Frobisher. It was to hunt down and catch Lucas that Charles and Jack Frobisher left me unprotected.

I recognise only Jeremiah in the mob of slaves from the neighbouring plantation who are surrounding the building. Why is Jeremiah here? He knows me well, and he must remember that it was I who saved his dying boy, Samson, after he had been bitten by a brown recluse spider. I not only saved Samson’s life, I also persuaded his owner, Thomas Chamberlain, to re-house Jeremiah and his family away from the swamps that teem with deadly snakes and spiders.

The mob is now surrounding the plantation house and is chanting and stamping in one of their ancestral African tribal dances. The women are ululating, becoming more and more frenzied.

I can hear the horses in the stables screaming as the stables are set on fire, and I am powerless to help them; and now I see my Sheba, my darling dog Sheba, who never hurt a living soul running for her life. Fear of the noise and smoke made her stray from her usual place at my heels. I feel compelled to watch as one of the men capture my faithful pet dog, my beloved Sheba. Oh no! Oh God help me! I am helpless to save my pet. I am paralysed with fear and agony as I watch a frenzied man slit her throat in one swift movement. A soft bark leaves her body as she dies. I want to but I cannot scream out. I must remain calm and make no noise. I must not endanger the life of my baby. I want to block out the viciousness of the act but I let out a low moan as all the men smear Sheba’s blood on their bodies. They have not heard me. I’m still safe here behind the tree. They have set fire to the veranda and the tall white pillars of the portico and now the flames are gradually reaching right up to the second floor of the house.

All of a sudden there is a popping sound followed by a noise that sounds like a clap of thunder and the whole building is becoming engulfed in flames that shoot high into the sky, the smoke adding to the dense blanket which is obliterating the last of the sunset.

I am desperately afraid. Akami… Akami, where are you? I cry silently. Where are all our own slaves? Akami! Akami! I am terrified and now I call out loud. Akami, where are you? Take me away! Hide me! Save me and this baby who is soon to be born.

I know that my own slaves love me and that Lavinia and Akami will protect me from the wild mob. I am terrified of these frenzied slaves from the neighbouring plantations. Slaves who think that freedom is coming at last; and emboldened by the preaching of the Reverend Sam Sharpe of Montego Bay, they have been killing all the white people they can find. Now they are continuing their wild dancing around my home. The sparks and ashes are falling fast and with a gust of wind the upper branches of my protecting oak tree catches fire. The mob is still dancing around the burning house and no one has heard my call. Still unseen I run into the wild hibiscus bushes which scratch my arms and legs. Through the smoke and fires, and the burning homestead trees that are crashing down, Akami reaches my side, and gathers me up and his big, strong arms, holding me tight.)

She hears a new voice, a woman and one she did not quite recognise. Was it the Lavinia she heard before?

…I am in charge of the investigation. Your wife is seriously injured and Dr Akami is attending to her. You were saying that she drove off in your car. Is that a Maserati Quatrroporte by any chance?

Before Charlie Harris could reply, DI Hobbs saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. Her finger is twitching, she said addressing the Doctor. Do something Dr Akami. She’s coming around. Can I speak to her?

(And now a deep warm voice. A well-remembered voice. Akami! Akami! I know that you will save me, my love!)

No. No one can speak to her, said Dr Akami. She may twitch a little, but she is still deeply unconscious. In a minute or two we will be taking her to the Intensive Care Unit and putting her in a medically induced coma. She will be kept alive by life support machines while my team and I assess and attend to that nasty head wound, which will include scanning her brain to see if there is any permanent damage.

Wait a minute! said Charlie Harris. I don’t want her to be taken to the ICU and hitched up to those awful robot-like machines.

(She was deeply unconscious, but somehow she could still hear and even recognise some of the voices of people talking around her. Akami, my beloved Akami. And that was Charlie talking. He was asking, no demanding in that awful way of his, that they should not move her. Not take her to the ICU? What’s that? Not put me on machines? What machines?

She tried to touch the little golden cross at her throat and found that she couldn’t move her hand. Please, Jesus, protect me. He is as hateful as that other Charles.)

Inspector Lavinia Hobbs gave Charlie Harris a good, hard look. Why would you even resist putting her on a life support system? Or trying to save her? The doctor said that putting her into a coma is the best way to save her.

She turned to Dr Akami. Did I really see her little finger move? Could she come around naturally without being put in an induced coma? Can you please tell us again what the future holds for Mrs Harris? I thought that you doctors were always saying that someone in a coma can, sometimes not only waken and recover but that a full recovery and return to normal life is not impossible.

That is true, said Dr Akami, but with Mrs Harris we still do not know the cause of her head injuries, and how much trauma her brain has received. As I have already told you, we have to wait until we have scanned her brain and the swelling has gone down before we can make a full assessment of her injuries and whether she will recover. What I am sure about at present is that her brain is active. There is no question of whether or not we put her into a coma and on life support machines. That little twitch shows that she is alive and strong enough to recover. It is just a matter of keeping watch over her and to be ready for the first signs that she is going to wake up.

Two porters and a nurse came in to move Mellissa’s bed to the ICU. Thank you, Nurse Bingham, said Dr Akami, my assistant neurologists are on stand-by and are waiting to receive you in the ICU, ward 2. I shall be following you up as soon as I have finished talking to the detective and Mrs Harris’s husband.

Lavinia had been looking at Charlie Harris as Dr Akami was speaking. Did she see a look of fear rather than relief come into his eyes? A second later he was the all concerned and loving husband, taking her hand as she was being wheeled out of the room.

Can you hear me darling Mellissa, I am here to look after you. Please wake up soon. We can still go to Jamaica as soon as you are well again.

Dr Akami, who was just about to talk to DI Hobbs, spoke to Charlie. Were you planning to go to Jamaica?

Yes, Charlie replied. Mellissa has recently found that someone with the same name as her maiden name, that is Mellissa Goodchild, married a sugar plantation owner in Jamaica who owned the Silver Bay plantation in western Jamaica and lived through the slave uprising in the 1830’s, just before the slaves were freed. She intended to go and find out all that she could about this Mellissa Goodchild and to discover if she is related.

That is so interesting, said Dr Akami. I am Jamaican. My great grandfather was a slave who lived through that uprising and I am pretty sure that I have heard mention that he was on the Silver Bay plantation. My two grandparents were children when their parents left Jamaica to come to England in 1948. They sailed on the ‘Empire Windrush’. They were part of the first mass migration of Jamaicans to England. I was born here but I still feel Jamaican. He paused for a moment, deeply lost in thought.

Then he continued. Well, enough of that. Mr Harris, Detective Hobbs. We will get Mrs Harris settled in the ICU. The anaesthetist will put her in a deep coma and we scan her and do all that we need to right now and I will ask you both to leave us to do what needs to be done before you come up to the ICU. You will both be able to come in there when we are ready for you.

(Jamaica. Silver Bay, Jamaica. That’s it! I remember Silver Bay…)

Chapter Four

London, 1827

I am back here in London, long before I went to Jamaica and how I came to go there. Yes, it was Silver Bay. I am only nineteen and I am being introduced to Sir Jonathan Harrison. At this time, I am assisting my father, Doctor Roger Goodchild, at his clinic in Harley Street, London. I am my father’s only child, and as a woman, I am unable officially to train as a doctor, so my father is teaching me himself. Most of the time my role is as a chaperone to his wealthy female patients, but my father is a good instructor in anatomy and he teaches me every time he has an unusual case. He is a great believer in the use of leeches to withdraw tainted blood from the body and even in maggots to eat away at putrid flesh to leave a clean wound!

His patients are mostly society and aristocratic people, and most of their complaints are everyday illnesses: colds, influenza, aches and pains and an occasional broken bone. He also holds a free charity clinic every Friday two and a half miles across London from here, in St Bartholomew’s Hospital, which they call St Barts. I also assist him there and I learn so much more. The poor people of London have so many real illnesses and suppurating wounds that need attention. It is my personal belief that the main difference between the health of the rich and the poor is not only the food that they eat, but most of all, their cleanliness and the conditions in which they live. If a rich man, living in a good clean home injures himself I can clean the wound, wrap it in clean bandages and give the wound time to heal. If a poor man has a similar wound even if I clean it and wrap it in clean bandages, somehow the filth that he lives in will seep into that wound and make the flesh rot. Cleanliness has to be the answer to having a healthy life.

The women who attend our private clinic in Harley Street particularly trust my father and consult him in all aspects of ‘female ailments’ including monthly menstruation and pregnancy problems. This is when I am most useful. Most of these patients will only let me, as another female, touch their persons, and my father will stand behind the screens explaining their conditions and instructing me in what to do.

My father and I meet Sir Jonathan Harrison when he brings his wife, Lady Amelia, to my father’s practice when she is suffering with very debilitating headaches and migraines, and the troublesome effects of going through the ladies ‘change of life’ – the menopause. Sir Jonathan and Lady Amelia are very pleasant people, and my father and I are soon invited to their country home in Oxfordshire where we meet their three sons. Their eldest son, also named Jonathan, is due to inherit his father’s title together along with the bulk of his wealth. Then there is Anthony, already a Captain in the Oxfordshire Regiment of Horse, and finally Charles, a very handsome young man of twenty-two who is exploring the possibilities of working overseas in the British Caribbean territories. Oh! He is so handsome…

Chapter Five

Saturday, 23 January, 2016. 10:00 a.m.

Westover Police Station

Charlie could hardly believe what was happening. How many ‘interviews’ had he done over the past four years in a ‘room’ just like this one? He was already well into the fifth series of ‘Inspector Holland’. Sitting in a small, drab studio set room with bright lighting and no windows, with just one table and four hard chairs, grey walls and an obvious see through mirror.

Now he was on the other side of the table being interviewed by the real version of his own make believe self. He laughed silently in his own boyish manner, so beloved of his fans.

But he was actually in a state of confusion and shock. What had happened to Mellissa was really just an accident, he hadn’t meant to hurt her. He had just got over exasperated with her wilfulness. If only he checked her properly when she had fallen and not assumed that she was dead. That was his biggest mistake. And Panic! Taking her to Westover Wood! How could he have been so stupid? How could he explain it all? Could he keep up the pretence that he knew nothing? How…? DI Hobbs was talking and DS Oliver, sitting at her side, was staring at him in a very concentrated and alarming manner. He had hardly heard what the DI had been saying in the last couple of minutes. Charlie was beginning to sweat.

Yes, Mr Harris, she said. But this is real and we are investigating what I believe to be the attempted murder of your wife.

Am I being charged with murder? Shall I telephone my solicitor? he asked aggressively, You can’t really believe that I would hurt Mellissa. I love her and I want, just as much as you, to catch the bastard who did this to her. I am sure that they just wanted the Maserati, and she was attacked so that they could steal the car.

Yes, Mr Harris. Just be calm and let’s slow this down a little, said Lavinia in a very soothing tone. She had been warned of his irrational and explosive temper. His star status making him think that he should be treated differently from every else. First of all you are not being charged with anything. We are just having a little chat about you and Mellissa. It was very difficult for us to have a proper talk in the hospital, so I thought that it would be easier for us all to do it here.

She went on, "I am still just at the first stage of my investigation, and all I want from you is a little background knowledge about you and your wife. Where you met? How long you have known her? What she is like? How is your marriage, etc.?

Let’s start at the beginning. When and how did you meet?"

Charlie took a deep breath and relaxed into his chair. He ran his fingers through the famous blond hair in that casual manner of his that got all the girls, young and old, wanting to touch him. Ready to adore him and believe every word he uttered. He made it look as though it was an action he did without realising, but actually it was completely calculated, done to get that exact reaction. I don’t know why you would think that it is relevant, but I met Mellissa two and a half years ago when she started work on the set of ‘Inspector Holland’. She was a runner and a researcher. Very good at her work, very focused and very popular with the team. In fact, Larry Holmes was very much in the running to be a serious boyfriend, and I was quite jealous of him. I didn’t know it then, but she had already fixed her eyes, her beautiful brown eyes, on little old me. He smiled with his boyish, charming grin. I was smitten with her almost as soon as we started dating and I asked her to marry me within six months of our first date. We were married on 20th June 2014.

Yes, I remember seeing it on the News. Very charming and beautiful you both looked. Lavinia paused a little and then continued. How come, if she was so good at it, did she give up her job as TV researcher?

Charlie hunkered down in his chair and fiddled with the buttons on his jacket. Well, he said. I wanted to have a family as soon as possible. She wasn’t quite so keen, but we did start trying for a family straight away. He laughed. That was fun too, you know! There was even a smirk now.

That’s quite unusual. said Lavinia. It’s normally the girl that wants the hubby and baby scene.

Charlie managed to look shocked and indignant. Detective Inspector Hobbs, he said in his famous David Holland voice, you are a prejudiced woman! Then he paused for a moment and laughed. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t quite believe that this is all serious stuff. No, I am sure that are just as many men married to career girls who resist having babies as there are girls married to men who want to put off the whole dirty nappies and night crying scene. Anyway we weren’t having any luck and I persuaded Mellissa to give up the job, which involved hours of rushing around being busy, busy, busy all the time. I loved having her at home all to myself. I was always jealous of the other chaps at work trying to chat her up, knowing full well that she was married to me.

Hm, thought Lavinia. A jealous and controlling husband. How far does this ‘loving’ husband exercise control over his darling wife. His beautiful possession?

DS Oliver spoke up. You mean, he said very carefully, that the real reason you wanted her to give up work was to get her away from anyone else, especially men, claiming her attention?

Charlie bridled, and the handsome blue eyes flashed with icy coldness. No. That’s not right. It wasn’t like that at all. All I wanted was for her to relax at home and not have the daily stress of working in a film studio. You know we make one, two-hour episode of DI David Holland every ten days, and there are eighteen episodes in each series. We work very long hours and the pressure is relentless. He paused for a moment, and the two detectives gave him time to collect his thoughts and continue.

"Anyway, it wasn’t long after that that we started talking about taking a Caribbean holiday to get away from everything and really chill out at the end of filming this series. I don’t know why, but we settled on Jamaica, and I bought her some travel and history books about the island. It was just to satisfy her curious mind and give her something else to think about.

Then she came across her maiden name, Mellissa Goodchild, spelt in that unusual way of hers with two ells in Mellissa, who was both a slave owner and an